


Rescue Me

by ChillyHollow



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillyHollow/pseuds/ChillyHollow
Summary: Everybody needs rescuing occasionally
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27
Collections: Love Letters: A Cormoran Strike Valentine's Day Fest





	Rescue Me

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [StrikeLoveLetters](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/StrikeLoveLetters) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Rescue Me

Strike shifted from foot to foot, eager to escape the talkative red-head who was babbling at his shoulder about a movie star he had never heard of in a movie he didn’t plan to see.He hated office parties. Not that he worked here, but Wardle had drug him along, insisting that Strike needed to socialize more.Wardle didn’t work here either, but his wife did part-time, so Wardle was expected to attend the Christmas party.Strike thought he saw April Wardle over by the wall of windows that opened onto the terrace. The terrace!He could smoke out there.Abruptly he left the red-head in mid sentence, mumbling about someone he had to see, and headed toward the exit.

He dodged one of the tall blonde caterers, and circled around a knot of gossiping women, several of whom turned to watch him walk by.That was always the down-side of going out on the town:folks noticed him and gossiped.He had been in the tabloids his entire life, given his famous father, notorious mother, and his chosen career, not to mention the trail of beautiful women he left in his wake.You got used to it but Strike had never liked it.He’d rather have been born in a dull suburb with boring parents and 1 1/2 siblings instead of the glamorous parents and the seven half-brothers and sisters he had been given.Nothing he could do about that, though.

Robin dodged a tall man barreling towards the terrace, just barely keeping her tray of used glasses upright.She hated office parties.There were too many drunks who seemed to lose all common sense, especially at Christmas.But these parties were profitable for her company, so she booked as many as she could handle.Then of course her servers would reliably get the flu and she’d end up serving as well as supervising.She hoped that her feet would hold out for another two hours.A good-looking man in a suit was eyeing her.“Hi, Beautiful!”Too much time at the open bar was her diagnosis.“My name is Matthew.”“Sorry, I’m working,” she said, moving on without a beat.She’d gotten rather good at ditching unwanted attention but Matthew was following her.He put his hand on her ass.Robin speeded up, heading for the kitchen.She ducked through the swinging doors, Matthew hot on her trail.He grabbed her arm as she was setting the tray full of emptied glasses on the counter.“Watch it!” she said crossly.Old Matthew appeared to be drunker than she’d thought.He leaned in, still holding her arm, aiming a wet kiss in her general direction.Robin decked him with an uppercut, then watched in satisfaction as he slid silently to the floor.She stepped around him, called for Jeremy to come dump the drunk in the men’s room, grabbed an empty tray and loaded it with clean glassware fresh from the dishwasher which ran continuously at these events.Then she was out the door to the bar before Jeremy could drag the unconscious Matthew out of their way. 

Strike saw the drunk follow the waitress into the kitchen, his hand on her ass, and a gentlemanly impulse had him veer toward the swinging doors, so he was silent witness to her efficient disposal of the irritant.Grinning, he turned and headed for the terrace again.Luckily it was silent and empty, perfect for a quiet smoke.He was trying to cut down and had been pretty successful but social settings always had him looking for an excuse to escape.Smoking always provided a socially acceptable reason to avoid people and to do something that he enjoyed.He lit up and stood, holding his cigarette, watching the traffic and city lights, breathing in the cold Christmas air, thinking of how much he’d like to escape to St. Maws where he could watch the ocean alone for hours. 

Robin delivered the clean glasses to the bartender, checked his supply of liquor, and realized they were going to need more whiskey and gin.Back to the kitchen she went, picking up dirty glasses on the way so she wouldn’t have to make two trips.At least her black flats were comfortable shoes.She checked her watch.Ninety minutes to go.Everything was under control.She grabbed a bottle of water and slipped out onto the terrace, alone except for a smoker at the other end.Standing by herself, she relished the cool air on her face as she sipped at the water.

A short red-head on high heels wobbled out onto the terrace.“There you are!Come here you big hunk.”She threw herself on the smoker who had his hands full keeping her from collapsing onto the stone floor.He turned her around, settled her on her feet, and pushed her back into the room.“Here you go.”Sighing, he realized that he had an audience. One of the waitresses was mock applauding.Taking a closer look, he realized that it was the one with the fine uppercut.“Drunks,” he said, “I hate office parties.”

“Me, too, “ she answered. 

“Nice job handling that guy in the kitchen, by the way.” was his response.

“You saw that?”

“I did.What did you do with the body?” 

“Had my burly dishwasher dump him in the men’s room to sleep it off.They aren’t usually so persistent.”

She thought he smiled.“More permanent solution than my red-head.She’s still roaming the ballroom between me and the front door.”

Robin found herself smiling back.“I’ll smuggle you out through the kitchen if you like.” 

“I may take you up on that,” he said, grinding out his cigarette on the stone flags.“But for now I’m back into the melee.My friends are inside.”Robin was sad to see him go.She didn’t often meet folks at these events she liked to talk to.Finishing her water, she followed him back to the party, intent on checking the canapé stocks.

Strike found Wardle and his wife next to the bar.He took a small whiskey from the bartender and sipped at it.He wasn’t much of a hard liquor drinker at the best of times but he needed a little help to get through this event.He was glad to put the drink down nearly untouched, though, when several senior partners at April’s firm wandered over, eager to talk to the famous detective.This was why he was here, to network.It was people like this, plus their friends and acquaintances who most often hired his services.Strike chatted amiably with them, sneaking a look at his watch.Forty-five minutes to go. 

Robin carefully arranged the hot puff pastries she’d just taken out of the oven on several trays, one for each of the servers working this evening plus an extra tray she would handle herself.This was the last of the food to be served, thank goodness.The bar was still serving and would continue until the last minute, but the food service was ending.The trays disappeared in the hands of her staff except for the last one which she picked up herself and took to the bar where it would stay as backup nibbles.When she placed the tray behind the bar, she noticed the tall man she’d seen on the terrace in conversation with some of the senior partners at the firm which had hired her.He gave her a brief smile before she turned away.He was not exactly good-looking, not with that unruly hair and beard, but he had a nice smile and kind eyes.She was always a sucker for tall men.Dismissing him from her thoughts, she turned to head back to the kitchen to fetch more clean glassware. 

The drunk she’d knocked out barred her way.He looked angry.“I’m going to have you fired,” he hissed.“Good luck with that,” she thought, swerving to go around him.“Hang on!” he said loudly.“You hit me.”“You should know better than to lay hands on people you don’t know,” was her retort. 

“I imagine the senior partners would like to hear about the sexual harassment suit they are facing,” said someone behind her.She turned and saw her tall man addressing the drunk.“I saw the whole thing.I can testify that you grabbed this lady’s ass, then her arm, and attempted to kiss her before she decked you.”

“Who will listen to YOU?” snarled the drunk. 

“Oh, plenty of people.I’m sure my father’s PR person would love to plaster my going to court to testify against you all across the tabloids.She usually has to keep things out of the press so this will be a nice change of pace for her.I don’t think your bosses will be so happy with the publicity, though.” 

The drunk looked uncertain, then he stormed off.

“Nice one,” Robin said. “Thanks.But you don’t have to make up stuff to get me out of trouble.I own the catering firm.”

“I didn't make it up. Not going to fire yourself tonight, are you?” 

She laughed.“Not until I have all the food packed up, the liquor locked up, and the dishes cleaned and put away.”She left her rescuer at the bar and headed back towards the kitchen.Tina and Sally were huddled together, looking her way.“What did he say to you?”

“The drunk?He was just running his mouth.”

“No, no, Cormoran Strike.He’s soooo sexy.” 

Robin stared at Tina.“Who is Cormoran Strike?”

“The famous detective, silly.He’s the one who solved the Lula Landry murder and caught that serial killer last summer.He’s Jonny Rokeby’s oldest son, filthy rich, and they say he has dated a lot of society women, models, and even royalty.He’s a war hero, too.” 

Robin stared at them some more.Then she came to herself and dismissed Tina’s gossip as just that, gossip.“We need to get the glassware in the dishwasher, ladies, if we plan to go home before 1 a.m.Time enough to talk about the guests later.”

The party started to wind down and finally Robin was able to signal to the bartender to start to pack up.She grabbed the last of the dirty glasses, and headed to the dishwasher again.Jeremy began to load it with the last of the glass and silverware, minus the serving trays which would go home with her to be hand washed tomorrow.Robin stacked them in the carrier carefully, then headed back to the bar.The bartender had dumped the leftover slices of lemon and lime, wiped down the bar, and stacked the empty liquor bottles in two cardboard boxes.Robin grabbed one and headed for the kitchen, followed by the bartender carrying the single box of unused liquor.They would inventory the bottles in the kitchen once he fetched the other box of empties.Then everything would go into her van.She’d stop at the recycle center with the empties tomorrow afternoon. 

She grabbed her checklist.The waitresses appeared carrying garbage bags full of debris.Thankfully those could be dumped out back.“Take those to the dumpsters, please.”Robin wasn’t responsible for the flowers for this event, so all those would be left in position for the hotel to deal with.Leftover food went home with any of the staff that wanted it, a perk for their hours of work.Robin nibbled one tiny puff pastry while going down the list, making sure everything was cleaned, inventoried or otherwise handled in some way.Jeremy grabbed the cardboard box of liquor and headed towards her van.Robin grabbed the box of bar tools and followed him.

Out in the fresh air, she unlocked the van and swung the back open, noticing as she did so that there was a crowd of photographers just visible in front of the hotel entrance.They were jostling each other for position.Robin frowned.What was that about?She headed back inside through the kitchen, where she saw Jeremy and the waitresses huddled with the bartender.“What’s going on?”

“The paparazzi are here!”Robin looked blankly at her staff.“What?Why?”

“Someone must have blabbed that Cormoran Strike was here.He’s very newsworthy.”Robin rolled her eyes.“Ok, you guys, everyone back to work.I’m going to see what’s going on.” She went back out onto the ballroom, where a small knot of people were huddled.She noticed Strike was one of them, so she walked up to the group.When she arrived, Strike was saying, “You guys go on.I’ll try and wait them out.” 

“What’s the problem?” she asked.Strike turned and looked at her.“I may need to be smuggled out after all.”Robin smiled.“Well, if you don’t mind hauling boxes of bottles to my van, you can go out the back.”

Strike looked at her, nodded, and said, “Let’s go.See you later, Wardle.Get April home.”He followed Robin to the kitchen.The waitresses goggled at them when he and Robin arrived.“Ok, folks,” Robin said briskly.“We are doing a James Bond thing now.Tina, you and Sally, get your coats on.I want you two to take the last small boxes of supplies to the van, then make sure you head home out toward the front of the hotel.Smile at the photographers, pose, make them look at you, but say nothing.Jeremy, get out of that apron.Strike, put on the apron and get that big box of liquor bottles.Follow me to the van, dump the box in the back and get in the passenger’s side.It’s partly hidden.I’ll drive you home once we load up.Jeremy, wait 20 minutes after we leave, then walk out the front door.Don’t say anything to the photographers, just that you are the last one out and locking up.Everyone got that?They all nodded, Strike amused at how quickly and efficiently Robin had plotted his escape and given everyone a role to play in his little drama.

He pulled the bulky white apron over his head and grabbed the large box of empty liquor bottles. Following Robin, he kept his head low and the box hiding as much of his body as he could manage.Dumping the box in the back of the van, he headed to the passenger side as fast as he could manage, letting Robin grab her keys from her pocket, lock the rear doors, and climb into the driver’s seat of the caterer’s van.She quickly and efficiently backed out of the rear area, reversed, turned the van away from the hotel entrance, and they were gone. 

After the van circled the block behind the hotel, Robin asked Strike where she could drop him. “I’m in Soho,” he replied and put out a big hand.“I’m Cormoran Strike.”Robin smiled and shook it.“I’m Robin Ellacott.Nice to meet you.”

“I owe you one, Robin Ellacott.May I buy you a drink?There’s a nice pub open late near my flat.I’ll happily get you something to eat as well if you didn’t have time to eat while you were working.”

Robin gave him a look, then decided.“I’d like to eat something.It’s been a long day without much time to sit down.”

“Fine,” said Strike. "Park behind this building.We can walk a block to the pub, then I’ll escort you back after we’ve eaten.”Strike had forgotten about the apron until he climbed out of the van and saw it flapping in the breeze.Robin laughed and helped him get out of it.She tossed it into the van and off they went down the street, talking together companionably.The pub was cozy and warm, and they both were happy to get off their feet.Strike recommended the burger and chips, which Robin ordered.They ate, asking each other about their businesses, complaining about the lack of the normal hours off work since they both were busy on weekends, and finally Robin asked him what she’d been wondering—why he was so eager to dodge the photographers.“I’m a private detective.I can’t follow folks if they all know what I look like.I’m rather large and the hair is distinctive, so I need to keep out of the papers as much as possible.And thanks to you, I’ve managed that for tonight, at least.”

“Happy to oblige.Ellacott—Caterers slash Rescuers.”

They both laughed, then continued with their meal, delighted to have found a kindred spirit, even at a boring office party.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it would be fun to have our pair "rescue" each other.


End file.
